


All That Aggravation

by elfin



Series: A Little Less Conversation [2]
Category: Stan Lee's Lucky Man (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 20:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin
Summary: Isabella is the worst luck there is





	All That Aggravation

**Author's Note:**

> Set in season 2 and deviates from canon.  
> (Seriously, I’ve just found these two!)

**Close Your Eyes…**

 

Rich made a pot of coffee and made sure there was enough for three. From the sounds he’d heard coming from Harry’s room when he got in last night, his brother had company. He didn’t judge and he definitely didn’t make assumptions: there were at least three beautiful women who seemed to be in his brother’s life at the moment. At least he was actually married to one of them. Sitting in the kitchen, he pulled the newspaper towards him and opened it, half-reading, half-listening for the opening of Harry’s bedroom door.

He didn’t mean to, but he started laying bets in his head, working out the odds of it being the glamorous blonde vs the enigmatic brunette. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure Harry was sleeping with the dark haired woman though, the one who put the bracelet on him. Maybe he didn’t trust her. Then again, he didn’t seem to trust the blonde either.

Shame he couldn’t get the head and the heart in sync again, the way he had with Anna. 

The pot of coffee was getting cold by the time he heard the door open. His imagined money was on the blonde, having weighed up the options, and he delayed the moment when he looked up, aware of how chronically dull his own life had become when Harry’s love life was far more interesting. 

Timing was everything. He’d just taken an overconfident mouthful of coffee when Alistair Winter - Detective Superintendent Alistair Winter - stepped around the corner into the kitchen. It was choke or spit, and given what he’d been through at the man’s hands, he chose to spit. 

In his defence, Winter froze, an expression of guilt and a touch of horror on his face. Luckily, before either of them had a chance to speak, Harry joined them to make the moment even more awkward.

‘Rich.’ He squeaked. He actually squeaked! It was almost worth the pain he’d suffered just to see his usually unflappable brother come completely unstuck. ‘You’re not supposed to be back until tonight.’

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. ‘And that has to do with this how?’

Winter looked down at himself, maybe to check he was wearing pants, because the next words out of his mouth were the predictable, ‘I should leave,’ and Rich didn’t have time to agree or disagree.

He watched with stunned fascination as Harry grabbed a jacket from the coffee table in the lounge and headed his boss - his fucking boss! - off at the door. He didn’t hear what was said, but Winter smiled as he took his jacket and although they didn’t share a kiss goodbye the look that passed between them was more intimate. It tempered Rich’s first words once the door was closed and Harry was leaning back against it, facing him, ready for the battle.

‘Dear God, are you fucking serious?! I mean, unless he slept on the sofa…?” Harry shook his head. ‘He’s your superior officer, for Christ’s sake! The last time I saw the two of you, you were at each other’s throats! Everything he did to you, to us! Prison, those trumped up charges, the corruption investigation…. He almost tore us apart!’

‘He took a bullet because of me.’

‘Only because that bullet was never going to hit you even if you’d been standing with the gun pressed against your head.’ Harry smiled slightly at that. ‘Jesus Christ. How did it even…?’

‘It just did.’

‘Last night?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Months ago.’ There was something in the way he said it, in the way he kept looking at the floor, trying to hide his expression, trying to hide the truth. Until he wasn’t, until he looked up. The revelation took Rich’s breath away. 

‘Fuck. You’re in love with him.’

‘No.’

‘You can’t hide from me, Harry. I know you. I know that look.’ He shook his head, finished his coffee and refilled his mug, wincing when the cold liquid touched his tongue. 

‘I’ll put a fresh pot on.’ Harry volunteered, and Rich didn’t try to stop him. ‘I’m not in love with him. But I do… love him. There’s just some… chemistry between us that makes it really, really good.’

‘Your head and your heart in sync?’

Harry turned from the coffee pot. ‘I’d trust him with my life.’

‘Would he trust you with his?’

‘Apparently. And before you ask, yes, he knows about the bracelet.’

Rich sat back. ‘You think the bracelet is really the point in this situation?’

Harry nodded as if he understood. ‘You didn’t know I was bisexual?’

‘No, actually, I didn’t. But that’s not the issue here, and it’s not actually the biggest surprise. Given the women you’ve been associating with, I’d have been less shocked if you’d slept with David Gandy.’

‘Who?’

Rich shook his head. ‘He’s a male model. The point I’m trying to make is that of all the men you could have fallen for, you had to choose your boss.’

‘If it’s any consolation, he started it.’

‘I honestly hope he didn’t, because that’s sexual harassment in the workplace.’

Harry turned to pour himself a fresh mug of coffee. ‘We’ve never done it in the workplace actually, although Alistair has a big desk and an office with blinds so now you come to mention it, we could absolutely give it a go.’

‘That’s an image I could have done without.’ But Harry’s smile when he sat down was infectious. He actually looked happy. Rich sighed. ‘Fine, you want to bring DSI Winter back here after work, feel free. But don’t expect me to make small talk until he apologises.’

‘Which he has already done.’

‘Again. In single malt form.’

‘Ah. I’ll make sure he does.’

‘And do me a favour? Keep a handle on all your lovers. I don’t want one of them smashing this place up in a jealous rage.’ 

Harry laughed. ‘I don’t think Alistair’s the jealous type.’

‘Maybe not, but I’d lay bets that Isabella is. She is one woman I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of.’

Tragically, he wasn’t wrong.

 

 

**…and Listen to the Music…**

 

Rich handed Harry another pint of coffee, never more glad for the modernisation of hospital facilities. He couldn’t think of anything to say, instead squeezing his brother’s shoulder and going to give Suri a hug.

After ten hours, the surgeon finally came to find them. He looked as knackered as they felt but his appearance was like an adrenaline shot and they were all on their feet in a moment.

‘Are you… family?’

Harry answered, ‘We’re the closest thing he’s got.’

‘Okay, well, he’s out of surgery. He suffered a subdural hematoma which was putting pressure in the brain. We’ve relieved that, given him the best chance possible, it’s up to him now.’

‘Can we see him?’

‘Only one of you, only when he’s been settled in ICU and only for a minute.’

He nodded. ’Thank you.’ 

When someone came an hour later, Harry was the one to go. He had to be. And once he was gone, Rich turned to Suri and Steve, and said,

‘Look, there’s something you need to know, but God forbid you should tell Harry I told you, and God help you if you breathe a word of this to anyone who could make trouble for them.’

Steve frowned. ‘Them who?’

But Suri already knew. After all, she was a fine detective, plus she was Rich’s girlfriend. Chances were Harry and Alistair hadn’t been as careful around the flat as they were in the office.

‘They’re sleeping together.’

‘Who are?’

‘Harry and the boss.’

Under any other circumstances, Steve’s expression would have been comical - YouTube worthy for sure. ‘You’re kidding? Wow. Well, I guess it explains a lot.… I just always thought Harry was a ladies man.’

‘He is. Believe me. Some days it’s like Piccadilly Circus Tube Station at my place. But given that at least one of the women he’s been sleeping with tried to kill him and has just attempted to murder Alistair, I think that relationship might have run its course.’

.  
.  
.

_He opens his eyes. It’s more difficult than it’s ever been before. His head feels like it’s on fire and even the dim light beyond the darkness where he’s been hiding is too bright._

_‘Alistair?’_

_He recognises his own name but he can’t work out what to do when he hears it. He should be dead. He knows this indisputable fact and yet he’s in so much pain he must be alive. Something light touches the side of his face and he flinches like he’s been punched. There’s noise then, activity, people around him, people touching him. He can’t cope. The darkness is a welcoming place and he returns to it willingly._

.  
.  
.

Every time Harry closed his eyes he saw Alistair lying on the floor at the base of the stairs in the empty house. If he’d died there, it would have been alone, under the hard, hateful gaze of the woman he’d believed loved him. 

He tried not to squeeze Alistair’s hand too hard, slid his finger tips up to the place on the underside of his wrist where he could feel his pulse; strong now, regular. ’Why didn’t you call me? Or Suri, or Steve? Why didn’t you take backup? The lone maverick thing, that’s my gig, not yours. If I’d known… if I’d had any inkling of what she was really capable of, I’d have done everything differently, whatever it took to keep you safe. But I thought… I honestly thought she wouldn’t hurt you, not like that, not after the two of you…. Mind you, she tried to kill me so why should you have been any different? Except that I’m a threat to her. You’re not. You worshipped her….’ 

He rubbed his eyes and his fingers came away wet. 

‘Mr Clayton?’ He looked up, smiled at the nurse on the other side of the bed. ‘There’s a woman asking for you.’ His pulse leapt from 60 to 120 in the time it took him to turn his head, glance through the glass at the nurse’s station, and see Anna standing there.

‘Jesus.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah. Sorry.’ He stood, leaning over to tell Alistair, ‘I’ll be just outside.’ Whether he could hear him or not wasn’t the point. The reassurance was as much for himself as for the man sleeping until the influence of some fine Class A drugs.

 

‘Hi.’

Anna hugged him. ’I hope you don’t mind me coming. Rich rang me, he told me what happened.’ Harry could guess what his brother had said to Anna. Something along the lines of, ‘make sure he’s getting some rest’ and ‘make him eat something’.

‘Have you eaten?’

Harry lied. ‘I had breakfast. I’m not really hungry.’

‘How about coffee?’

He looked through the glass, at the machines and the pumps, the tubes and wires, and Alistair in the middle of it all. 

An armed officer was watching him, awaiting any change of instructions which currently were to shoot anyone acting suspiciously and to let CID ask questions later. There were another two outside ICU. 

He nodded. ‘Okay.’

 

The addition of the franchise coffee shop to the hospital had been a godsend even in just the forty eight hours he’d been camped out there. Anna bought him an black coffee and a chocolate chip cookie which he wolfed down without thinking about it.

‘You’ll be of no use to anyone if you don’t take care of yourself.’ They sat at a small table in the window. It unnerved him to be away from Alistair’s side, but he recognised that growing insanity in himself at least. They’d kept his survival quiet. Steve and Suri had given a press conference and told the assembled media that DSI Winter been found dead at the scene. If Isabella believed they were both dead, they’d be safer that way. He tried to breathe more deeply, to calm the panic that kept racing up on him.

Anna reached across the table and took his hand. ‘Are you all right?’

He thought about lying, just for a second, then thought better of it. ‘Not really. Not at all, actually. I found him.’

‘I know.’

‘I thought he was dead, thought I’d lost him. We leave so much unsaid, stuff we put off to another time, another day. He was just lying there, looking… broken.’ He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes again. Anna wrapped her other hand around his wrist. 

‘Harry….’

He resisted the bizarre and unusual temptation to pull away from her. He loved her. Maybe she still loved him. Wasn’t that where they were headed before Isabella electrocuted him, tried to kill him, smashed an attic door into Alistair’s head and threw him down five flights of stairs?

‘I thought he was unconscious from the fall, then I saw his head, the blood…. He didn’t call me that night. I don’t understand why he didn’t call me, call someone, why he went alone. He doesn’t do things like that. He might bend the rules now and again but he doesn’t break them.’

‘Harry, I went to see him at the station earlier. He wanted to ask me about the accident…. I told him I thought Isabella was following us, that she’d followed us from the house.’

‘He was in love with her.’

She smiled, a little sadly. ‘And here was I thinking he was in love with you.’

Stunned silence was probably what she’d been expecting and he didn’t disappoint. For a minute or so he didn’t know what to say. ‘How long have you known?’

‘Just a couple of days, that morning you were in here, when he came into your room. The relief on his face when he saw you… I recognised it. How long have the two of you been…?’

‘A few months. Maybe longer…..’

‘Men.’ She shook her head. ‘You, Harry, have always been bad with dates.’

‘You’re not angry?’

She shook her head, genuinely confused. ’Why would I be angry?’

‘Other women, now a man….’

‘I’ve had other men too.’

He hesitated. ‘It’s just… I think…. The way I’ve been feeling these last few days….’

‘What you’ve been through, that kind of emotional turmoil isn’t a good place to be making life changing decisions. Be with Alistair, help him recover, whatever he needs. Then when everything’s settled again, we can talk. I’m here if you need me, Harry. You’re not alone.’

He covered her hand with his own. Even without the bracelet he was a lucky son-of-a-bitch at times. ’Thank you.’

.  
.  
.

_The next time, it’s easier. The light isn’t as blinding, the pain isn’t as raw. His chest aches. He’s aware of a pressure on one hand and a weight on the other, and looks to see what’s causing it, frightened for a moment until he sees the IV line and Harry, asleep next to the bed, arm stretched out, Alistair’s hand in his._

_He tries to move, and immediately Harry’s awake. This time the activity around him makes sense; nurses checking vitals, a doctor shining a light in his eyes. He stays conscious for it all, still a bit fuzzy but wanting it over with so he can find out what the the hell happened to him._

.  
.  
.

‘Don’t try to talk. You’ll have a very sore throat from the respirator.’ 

Harry was still there, holding his hand the way he had through all the scary stuff. He managed to form the word, ‘what’, and Harry understood the full meaning of that one syllable. 

‘Isabella tried to kill you. I found you. I thought you were dead. Luckily the first paramedic at the scene found a pulse, thready but enough that they did more for you than I did.’ Alistair tried to squeeze Harry’s hand and hoped he’d managed to at least exert a little pressure. ‘They saved your life. You had a bleed on your brain. They drilled a hole in your skull, relieved the pressure, let the swelling go down. That’s why your dead hurts. That and the damage done by the first impact. You’ve got quite a bruise.’ It sounded like an attempt to lighten the mood but the wetness in his eyes dampened the effect. ‘It’s going to take a while and there may be some complications but they do expect you to make a full recovery.’

It was a relief to hear the words. It was a relief to be alive. There was so much he wanted to say but it would have to wait. He tried to smile, thought it probably came across more like a grimace, but Harry held his hand tighter and told him he wasn’t going anywhere. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. Maybe they both needed some rest.

.  
.  
.

The next time he woke, he thought he was alone. He couldn’t feel the weight on his hand and the room was quiet. But when he opened his eyes he saw Harry in the chair beside him, mug of coffee in his hand, reading a paperback that looked as if it had been around longer than both of them.

‘Harry....’

‘Hey.’ The mug and the book were discarded as he sat forward and put one hand on Alistair’s right arm. ‘Do you need anything?’

He was surprised at first to find he didn’t. Then again he thought all his physical needs were probably being taken care of in ways he didn’t really want to think about. 

‘How long?’

‘Eleven days.’

‘Isabella....’ 

‘We’re taking care of that. Don’t worry.’ 

It sounded like something he should definitely be worried about, but he just didn’t have the strength. ‘Be careful.’

‘I believe I asked you to be careful and look where we are.’

‘Sorry....’ He realised his face was wet, tears leaking from his eyes. 

‘Hey....’ Harry was on his feet, leaning over him, wiping his face with his fingers, kissing his forehead. ‘You’re here. That’s all that matters now.’

He closed his eyes, exhausted from that short, emotional exchange. He could only hope it would get easier. He really hated his weakened version of himself.

.  
.  
.

‘Do you want a shave?’

It was the most incongruous of questions given where they were. It made Alistair laugh and maybe that was the point. 

‘They shaved my beard off last time I was stuck in this place.’ 

‘Last time you didn’t have anyone around to give you advice on your appearance.’

‘You don’t like me with a beard?’

Harry stroked Alistair’s chin with the backs of his fingers. ‘It’s not exactly a beard, is it? More like grey fluff.’

‘Cheeky bastard.’

He blinked. Every moment now felt like a gift, even this strange conversation against the hiss and whirr of life saving equipment. ‘I love you.’ The words just slipped out, he hadn’t meant to say them, possibly not ever, not to him. 

‘Shut up.’

‘I do.’ Now they were out there, he figured he might as well jump in with both feet. 

‘You’re reacting to what happened....’

‘Don’t you start. That’s just what Anna said.’

‘You told Anna?!’ His voice went up a notch. It made Harry smile. 

‘She told me. She said saw the look on your face when you saw me in the hospital after.... When you knew I was okay. She said she recognised it.’

‘Relief. The paperwork would have been horrendous.’

‘Liar.’

‘Maybe.’ He winced in pain and the smile slipped from his face. ‘The last person I loved....’

‘I know. And I’m... so sorry. I’ll be the first to admit we need to work on our communication. But I’m nothing like her. I could never hurt you.’

Harry smoothed down the light hairs just above Alistair’s ear, on the other side to where the clean, white dressing covered the two holes in his head; the one caused by the lock on the attic door smashing into him, and other by the surgeon saving his life. 

‘Do you think we’ll ever get passed this?’

‘We’ll find a way. We have done before and we will again. Unless... you’re trying to tell me something different...?’

‘No.’ His smile returned. ‘If I had something to say to you, I would just say it. I don’t want... rid of you.’

‘You just don’t want your heart broken again.’

‘You’ve broken my heart so often I’ve lost count.’

‘That’s different.’ Alistair moved his arm, wiggled his fingers and Harry took his hand. ‘Give me a chance to prove it.’

‘Haven’t you worked it out yet? I’ve been giving you second chances since we met. I’ll always give you another one.’

‘I’ll try to make it the last one I need.’

‘Don’t make promises you can’t... keep.’ His face scrunched in pain. 

‘Drug time?’

Alistair nodded. ‘Stay?’

‘Of course. I’m not going anywhere.’


End file.
